Folklore
by Spiritual Stone
Summary: Halloween Oneshot: A figure dropped to the leaves in a bundle of elbows and knees before jerkily righting itself. The children gasped; the creature looked like a living scarecrow, eyes glowing yellow like stars of bad omen in a face that jaggedly smiled.


**A little early and slightly shorter than my normal fics, here's a Halloween one just for you!**

**Basically how halloween could have started if it ever existed in modern Hyrule.**

**Oh, and figuring out the title was HARD. I thought Ritual, at first, but then that sounded too voodoo, so Tradition, but no, that sounds too uptight. And not Halloweeny-enough. **

**So Folklore it is. **

**Enjoy!**

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_Folklore_

There was a chattering, a quaking, a gentle press of leaves as the light danced and dipped in the dark air of the forest plains. Giggles and whispers followed their wake, as the train of bright eyes weaved and stumbled deeper and deeper into the wilderness.

They were dressed and painted like woodland nymphs, wearing old dresses and shorts deliberately torn and dyed in stripes and spots of green-yellow-red, their limbs wrapped in mud or brown stockings. Some sported gleeful masks, others hats or ribbons in their hair, if not faces painted too with patterns and pictures of flowers and stars. Wooden clogs sank in the foliage as they followed the towering figure that was dressed almost like them, except instead of bags full of nuts and honey-cakes he had with him a short sword at his hip.

The children were led even deeper into the Lost Woods.

They didn't know why, not really. All they knew was that it was their turn this year, to go into the woods with this strange man, not noticing the terrified looks their parents shared amongst themselves, the way they seemed to be saying their final goodbyes as the young ten year-olds joined the shadows that swallowed the neighbouring forest whole. It was the one and only time they were allowed into these forests, so they cherished the adventure, and the escape from home.

But they'd been walking for a while, now, and the dark was encroaching heavily even with their little lanterns. It didn't occur to them that no candle-flame could give off such a bright light.

The excited whispers became scared. The whispers turned to silence as hands held each other too tight and the children huddled together. The leading adult noticed the silence and gave a hidden smile.

"It's alright. I'm here."

The reassurance had little effect. He was a stranger, leading them into a strange forest. He sensed their hesitation and tried again, "We're nearly there."

"Where are we going?"

It was the boy first in the line of maybe twenty children. He was frowning defiantly.

The Leader laughed. "Your parents didn't tell you? We're going to the fairies."

The frown deepened on the boy as some of the girls relaxed. "There're no such thing as fairies."

"Not the good kind, anyway," was the man's conceding comment, before heading forward once more, "Come on, or you'll get lost. Or eaten. Take your pick."

The tone was friendly but the prospect was not. The children scampered to catch up as the warning was sent down the line, and the fear doubled.

The fear turned to wonder as they were led into a meadow.

Indeed there were lots of fairies, dragonfly wings sprouting from balls of light, which were a bit of a disappointment after hearing so many stories that they looked like beautiful women. But they ranged in colour, and lit the place in moony rainbows, fluttering in the spray of a central fountain that seemed strangely new in the middle of a scattered ruin.

The man led them in, telling them to mind their step as he indicated the raised stone floor with a tap of his shoe. In the light some noticed the grass and insects that squeezed their way between the cobbled ground, the weeds that ravaged the ancient site but somehow not daring to go anywhere near the fountain.

The man told them to stop. They did so, spreading themselves out so that all of them could see and hear their guide. Though all they saw was the white of shirt, as the rest of him blended in with the dark night.

"Do you know why you're here?"

There was a hesitant chorus of 'no'.

A soft chuckle that had a sinister undertone the kids were too naive to catch. "Every year, crops grow. Sometimes, not as well as other times. Now, how do you usually make sure that the crops are good?"

The children looked at each other, and since the pause they received proved that the question wasn't rhetorical, one of them raised her hand. "We help out."

The Stranger nodded. "And?"

"We fertilise the field."

"And?"

Others picked up on the game and gave their own answers. "Trim them. Weed bad stuff. Pick off the insects. Till the land. Water them."

The stranger nodded once they'd finished. "But sometimes it doesn't work out after all that, hm?"

They looked at each other and nodded. The stranger knelt down and the light of the fairies wreathed his hair, almost hiding his natural blonde under dustings of green and blue and red. "That's what we're here for. A nymph named Skulkid looks after these lands, and first you're going to offer him the food you have; then you're going to play a game. If he's had enough fun, and if you _win_,he'll look after your crops, and you'll have enough to eat for winter. Sound fair?"

They looked at each other before agreeing. At his request they gave the stranger their offerings and he lined them neatly round the fountain, disturbing the fairies and making them whirl round his head like numerous halos. When he came back the adult took a deep breath and muttered something under his breath before pulling something almost out of nowhere, strumming it with deft fingers.

A lyre. And the tune was beautiful.

It was the sound of rain, the unfolding of flowers, the flight of bees. Then it was accompanied by something else, the song of birds, of wind whistles, the call of stars. They played together, lyre and something more, until a different tune burst in on them, loud and brass and full of fun and wild _life_.

A figure dropped from the trees in a bundle of elbows and knees before it jerkily righted itself.

The children gasped; the creature looked like a scare-crow brought to life, eyes glowing yellow like stars of bad omen in its face full of roots. If they had a mirror they would've realised that their outfits looked like silly copies of the Skulkid, who chattered a giggle before blowing on his trumpet once more.

Drops of gold fell from the leaves, as well as other things, bigger, with eyes that reminded all of them of tales of wolves that ate you when you were bad.

"It's tag, but you have to collect the Golden insects. Don't get caught by the Puppets or you lose." The stranger told them, pulling things out of his sleeves. "There're twenty four of them. Go on, and good luck."

The stranger didn't add that they'd probably need it as they ran off.

It was the best game ever. The 'ugly' insects like mantises and stag beetles (as far as the girls were concerned) were a hit with the boys, and the 'cute' ones like the butterflies, dayflies and pill-bugs suited the girls just fine. The dark made the place a scene for an epic adventure; the fairy lights made it a world of fantasy. The golden bugs were the treasure, and as they caught one, and another and another, they placed them in the fountain which had suddenly turned bone-dry, a tree replacing the statue that spouted water.

A group of girls were trying to catch a snail without touching it when something _thudded_ into a nearby tree. They didn't get a chance to see what it was as their guide urged them to get the hell on with it.

They saw something twitching in the corner of their eyes, and a gruesome smile that flashed briefly as a fairy passed by.

Some boys were struggling with a grasshopper. One of them yelled when he felt bony hands grip his shoulders so tight that bruises would form in the morning. A jerk and the grip went slack and a voice that didn't belong to the Stranger told them: "_Hurry_!"

Skulkid laughed and blew the trumpet again.

Terror laced the game now, as their hearts pumped not just with excitement, hands shaking to grab the beetle while friends watched their backs, coaxing ants to crawl onto their fingers even as something slid mercilessly towards them on silent feet. The worst thing was the _quiet_, and the amplified noises that came from it.

The children weren't born yesterday. They recognised the sound of punches thrown, the hiss of sharp metal cutting soft plants.

And they couldn't scream. They couldn't run. They were too scared of the dark, too scared of whatever they couldn't see. If they knew where it was they'd run in the opposite direction, but it could be anywhere, _it_ could be _everywhere_.

They had the Phasmids. Now it came down to one more Dragonfly, and a Ladybug. Then they'd have twenty four.

They frantically searched as the battle between two men and the Puppets intensified.

Skulkid just kept summoning more. And more. With every trumpet blow there loomed more limbs to hack, glowing smiles to cleave in two. No matter how many they nailed against the ground or the trees with their daggers and arrows, no matter how many they cut down with their sword and knife, they just kept coming. It was obvious, of course; the Puppets were but fragments of forests, and they were surrounded by it, surrounded by _them_ and their magic.

A brief glance from a sharp eye told one of them that there was only one last bug to go. Another's ears caught a gasp of triumph.

"We won! _We won_!"

Two thoughts shouted in unison. The kinder went: _No_!

The less forgiving went: _Idiot_!

The whole meadow was suddenly ablaze with bright light, and all the children screamed and covered their eyes. The Puppets surged towards the general direction of the voice but there were too many children huddled together that looked too much alike; they grappled with the screaming ten-year olds, searching for the Golden Ladybug.

The child that held the bug was suddenly lifted into the air and screamed and screamed but another voice was shouting above him '_Don't let it go_!' and the air roared as the man ran, faster and faster not caring whether he was jostling the boy and then they were at the fountain and the boy threw the bug into the fountain.

The blaze of light eased. The Puppets stopped moving. The children cowered where they stood or crouched, not daring to move as the creatures that looked like scarecrows out of nightmares drifted up into the air before disintegrating, blowing about, turning once more into dried leaves and shed bark and twine of ivy and vine.

The Stranger's sarcastic comment drifted from the few remaining shadows. "Had enough fun?"

The boy sniffled into a green-clad chest. A shuddering sigh left the adult as he looked at Skulkid. His tone was low; the kind a father uses when warning a child. "We won, right?"

A giggle seemed to concede defeat. A gentle tune whittled away at the night before drifting away, light dispersing, ruins disappearing, fairies snuffing where they floated. Suddenly the magic was gone, and they were in the middle of a forest with goddesses knew what else dwelt there.

The golden insects remained, humming.

"You're all safe now." The green-clad man stood, and lit his large oil-lantern simply by touching it. "Let's go. We're taking you home."

"Hold hands." The other man advised, stepping into the light as he sheathed his black blade, "Get into a line. I'll take the back so none of you are lost."

The children did as followed, using the green-clad man's light as a guide. They called each other's names to make sure everyone was there. All their palms were sweaty, and a few of them let go so they could wipe tears from their eyes.

The golden insects still lingered in the foliage, winking like stars.

"Don't touch them. Don't take them. Skulkid might see it as cheating."

They marched. They tripped in the dark, and they were scared and tired and they missed their parents. It was a strenuous twenty minutes before they saw firelight, the parents waiting, looking both relieved and terrified.

The kids rushed forward. The adults hung back, one of them gently unclasping a golden dayfly from a girl's hand before sending her off too.

They melted into the dark, letting the crying kids have their moment with their parents.

NMNMNMNMNMNMN

"I _cannot_ believe that worked."

The Hylian's smile would have been smug, if it weren't for the hiccup that'd occurred in his plan. "I can't believe that kid nearly _blew_ it. You'd think he'd know that his life would be in danger if he blurted that out, but no. No, no."

The other blond rolled his eyes, cleaning his knife. "Well, he _is_ only ten."

"Hey, I-"

"Yes, yes, saved the world when you were his age. Ugh," he lifted the knife into the moon, trying to catch a smidge of dirt on the smooth metal, "It must the first time I get _mud_ on these after a fight."

There was a miffed pause as the green-clad man fed the fire, the log snapping as it was devoured. "You think Skulkid will lay off, now?"

"Maybe. But I don't think so. Not as long as those villagers believe in him," The Sheikah shrugged, wiping the cloth on the flat of his blade one last time before sheathing it at his hip. "But then again, perhaps he won't be so keen on kidnapping himself a friend anymore. He _is_ a sore loser."

The Hero snorted. "You got that right."

"But you might want to check in next year, and the year after that. Third time's the charm, as they say."

He looked at his guide and sighed. "Why do things like Skulkid _do_ that?"

Another shrug, as bandaged fingers undid bags, pulling out bread and jerky. "To be feared, loved... To be remembered. To know what it is to be human, to understand what it is to be a child."

"Right," gauntleted hands received the bread, and in turn offered a bag of dried fruit. "The sadistic sense of fun has got nothing to do with anything, I'm sure."

"_You_ try living for a thousand years and not be bored." A cowl was pulled down, a fringe swept aside. "Look, what with things moving forward and magic disappearing goddesses know why, Skulkid will be one of the first to lose his sense of self. This won't last forever."

"It better not." There was an _oof_ as a body thudded against the earth, blue eyes staring at the night sky. "I'm tired of playing tricks with nymphs."

"It was either deceive him or offer him gifts; it was you who couldn't let go of the fact that _children_ were the gifts. Well, _a_ child, anyway. One for a year."

A pause, and a chuckle. A puzzled gaze tried to catch red eyes, but they were staring at the sky, too. "What's up?"

There was no humour as he said: "That was poor."

"It was unintentional. What were you laughing at?"

"Just a phrase that some goblin might say to a poor, hapless victim before lobbing his head off, whatever the answer."

"...Uhuh. And it is?"

"Trick or Treat."

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**Leaving out those names was RIDICULOUSLY HARD. Ah, well. The fics not so much about them but about Halloween, so yeah. **

**OMG It's pretty much 4 in the morning. DX**

**Anyway, if anyone's, like, totally confused because of the last conversation, basically, this is how I see it.**

**Nymphs/gremlins/goblins get stuff from humans as long as they don't do terrible stuff to them, right? Kinda like blackmail. In modern day, kids dress up as monsters and get candy as they go round houses because they're like gremlins looking for new territory. They knock on doors and say, 'Trick or Treat' whic translates to, "I don't play tricks on you as long as you give me a treat'. Obviously, tradition dictates that people don't want this, so the adults give kids the sugar.**

**They are allowed to egg houses that do not contribute to this holy event. XD**

**In the old days, when nymphs/gremlins/goblins existed, the children were offered as 'Treats' but the adults began to give them ways to 'Trick' said creatures, in this case Skulkid. So back then, when it first began to be used, 'Pick one of two: Trick or Treat. Treat, we leave behind honeycakes instead of kids. Tricks, we leave behind the treat anyway, but we're kicking your ass for trying to eat the kids as well, you greedy nymph you.'**

**Sheik's interpretation is:**

**Nymph: Trick or Treat, mortal?  
Mortal: Um... treat?  
Nymph: -Cuts Mortal's head off and eats it as a treat-**

**and/or**

**Nymph: Trick or Treat, mortal?  
Mortal: Um... trick?  
Nymph: I show you trick, then!  
-Nymph cuts Mortal's head off, laughs and says, _You're dead! That's the trick!_ before proceding to eat it to make it 'disappear'.**

**...I'm morbid, like that. :P**


End file.
